


A Latte and a Cookie

by mistresscurvy



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-25
Updated: 2010-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-14 02:48:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/144518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistresscurvy/pseuds/mistresscurvy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first half a dozen or so times that Gerard stops by the Starbucks closest to SVA, he's so desperate to get the caffeine into his system he doesn't even notice the guy behind the counter. Nor does he pay much attention to the fact that his cup seems to magically refill itself a couple of times while he's hunched over one of the tables and drawing steadily, his headphones on. He's busy, okay — his winter project is due in less than six weeks, and he is <i>screwed.</i> Royally, completely and without question.</p><p>The cookies, though. The cookies he notices. He just doesn't know what the fuck they <i>mean.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	A Latte and a Cookie

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amazonziti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amazonziti/gifts).



> Written for the Twelve Days of Pornmas.

The first half a dozen or so times that Gerard stops by the Starbucks closest to SVA, he's so desperate to get the caffeine into his system he doesn't even notice the guy behind the counter. Nor does he pay much attention to the fact that his cup seems to magically refill itself a couple of times while he's hunched over one of the tables and drawing steadily, his headphones on. He's busy, okay — his winter project is due in less than six weeks, and he is _screwed._ Royally, completely and without question.

The cookies, though. The cookies he notices. He just doesn't know what the fuck they _mean._

"Uh." He looks up at the guy who put in his triple shot latte without even asking and blinks. "Um. I didn't ask for cookies?"

"Yeah, I know, but we're gonna chuck them at the end of the night anyway, so." The guy across the counter is smirking at him, his bizarrely perfect left eyebrow cocked a little. "Besides, I thought you could use some sugar with your caffeine today."

"I use Splenda," Gerard says automatically.

"Yeah, I know, and that shit isn't sugar. But we'll get into that another day." He's still holding out the cookies for Gerard to take, and finally Gerard reaches out and grabs them.

"Um. Thanks," Gerard says, peering into the bag. "Dude, peanut butter, I fucking love those."

"I know, right? Oh, uh, also, if you give me your name it'll make getting your drink ready even faster next time," the barista says, eyes intent on Gerard's face.

"Oh! Uh, it's Gerard," he says, blinking a little. "Gerard Way."

The guy laughs a little, a high-pitched sound Gerard was not expecting. "Just the first name's good, but okay. And I'm Frank. Frank Iero," the guy — _Frank_ — says, holding out his hand for Gerard to shake.

Gerard puts down the bag of cookies to take Frank's hand, looking back at Frank bemusedly. "Nice to meet you, Frank," he says, looking at the lines and shape of Frank's face and getting an urge to have a pencil in his hand right now. He realizes he's been holding Frank's hand a little too long when Frank pulls away and points at the register.

"It's still $4.20," Frank says, and Gerard jumps and pulls out his wallet, paying for the latte.

He picks up his little bag of cookies — _peanut butter_ cookies — and heads to the counter to get his triple shot. When he looks back over, Frank is still watching him, a small smile on his face. Gerard abruptly turns around and walks quickly to his table, his head full of a new face for his graphic novel.

* * *

Frank doesn't give him cookies every time that Gerard's there. But Gerard does get used to coming in and hearing Frank or one of the other baristas call out 'Gerard!' about three seconds later, his triple shot hot and waiting for him by the time he makes it to the register.

He also manages to notice occasionally when Frank comes over with a fresh cup when he's immersed in his drawings, sometimes for two or three hours at a time. He makes a noise at one point about paying for the extra cups, but Frank just smiles and shakes his head.

"Nah. You're a regular. Don't want to lose your business to another coffeeshop that caters more effectively to caffeine addicts."

"You don't have much to worry about on that front," Gerard tells him honestly.

Frank's smile grows so big that his eyes practically get squished closed by his cheeks. "Okay then," he says.

* * *

Frank's steady campaign of peanut butter cookies aside, Gerard has a nasty tendency to attempt to live on lattes and nicotine alone. He's well into his fourth hour of working when his stomach's insistent growling gets beyond what even he's capable of ignoring, and he stands up and heads back over to the counter to check out the food options. He hums, baffled at the assortment of choices he's never noticed before; apparently some people don't just use Starbucks as a coffee IV drip system.

He picks up a packaged chicken salad wrap and waves it at Frank, who's standing behind the counter and looking at Gerard. "This any good?"

"Yeah, I'm sure it's delicious, if you enjoy eating things that had their heads chopped off," Frank says. Someone from the back calls out "Frank!" and he grimaces a little and says, "All of our sandwich offerings are super yummy, or so I've been told."

Gerard smiles a little at him. "Not a big fan of meat?"

"Not really, no. I'm a vegetarian," Frank says, watching Gerard carefully. "Look, I'm sorry I said that, obviously you should eat whatever you like—"

"Whatever, man, I don't care, say what you want," Gerard says. "You believe in something — go for it. Do you eat eggs and dairy, or are you, like, hardcore?"

Frank bends over a little, his elbows resting on the countertop and his chin sitting on his hands. "Nah, I eat cheese and eggs — tried not to for a while, but I ended up eating nothing but crappy junk food. Soy milk's really good though, you should try it sometime in your latte."

Gerard nods, although he's secretly not sure that messing with his drink mojo is a good idea. He's made a lot of progress on his project in the last three weeks, and while he can't say for sure that it's because of the coffee, he can't rule it out either. He puts down the headless poultry sandwich and picks up a fruit and cheese plate thing. "Any chance this isn't awful?"

Frank smiles at him. "I can tell you for a fact that that right there is perfectly edible."

"Sold," Gerard says as he hands Frank a twenty.

* * *

A week after the chicken salad incident, Frank brings over some peanut butter cookies to Gerard's table about half an hour before closing time.

Gerard smiles up at him absently and then focuses back on his drawing. He's determined to finish the sketch he's been working on since seven, and as a result he doesn't notice Frank picking up one of his discarded sheets until Frank says something.

"Hey, this is fucking amazing, man—"

"Give that back!" Gerard yelps, snatching the page out of Frank's hand and shoving it deep into his messenger bag. He didn't get a chance to see if it's one of the pages with Frank's likeness all over it, but his cheeks burn at the thought.

He glances up at Frank, who's backed away from the table with his hands held out away from his body, eyes wide. "Gerard. I didn't—"

"I have to go," Gerard says, standing up quickly and grabbing the scattered sheets of paper as fast as he can without ruining all of them. "Um. Thanks for the cookies," he says, heading for the exit without looking at Frank again.

* * *

Gerard doesn't stop going to the coffeeshop after that, or anything nearly so melodramatic. It's still the closest source of hot, delicious coffee near his studio, and his order continues to be ready for him before he's awake enough to formulate words, like always.

If he doesn't get refills nearly as often, or free peanut butter cookies just when it's hitting him that his last meal was eighteen hours ago, well. That's the price you pay for creeping on an employee of your favorite establishment.

"Your own fault," he mutters to himself as he draws frantically. The only thing that hasn't changed about his time spent in the coffeeshop is his obsession with the character born out of Frank's inspiration — Gerard tries to limit how much of him he draws when he's in the shop, but he never quite looks the same when he works on him anywhere else.

It's not as if Frank has come near his table since Gerard freaked out at him anyway.

* * *

A week before Gerard's winter project is due, he staggers into the coffeeshop, grabs his triple shot, and sets up his work at the corner table by the window. He only got about three hours of sleep, but he woke up certain of how his story needed to end, and coffee and the right table for inspiration are frankly necessary to complete it. He draws steadily, humming under his breath and his leg tapping on the floor as he goes through page after page getting out the rough sketch of how it all comes together.

When he finally finishes the last panel, he closes his eyes while he leans back in his chair and stretches out his arms, moving for the first time in god knows how long. He slumps after he releases the stretch and opens his eyes to see Frank standing right next to his table.

He's holding a Venti cup in both hands and looks frozen and sort of nervous. Gerard stares back at him, and it's as if the relief of knowing that he's actually going to have a project ready to turn in next week allows him to just tell the truth.

"I'm really sorry I'm the creepy guy that drew pictures of you," he says to Frank. "Um. It wasn't intentional at first? But I just really liked thinking about your face, and it made my whole project work. But I finally finished the rough sketch, so, um, I can probably stop coming here now, if you'd rather I not," Gerard finishes.

Frank stares at him for another minute before speaking. "You like thinking about my face?"

Gerard flushes and looks down at where his fingers are nervously tapping the table. "I thought that was pretty obvious from the drawing you saw."

He looks up again when Frank starts to speak. "Gerard, I didn't even get a chance to see what your drawing was beyond awesome." Gerard's mouth drops open a little as Frank continues. "I just. I thought you were mad that I touched your work before asking, and. Well. I'm _really_ sorry. Ray told me I should just leave you alone for a bit, let you cool off, but you haven't even _looked_ at me in like a week. So, um, here's a soy latte?"

"You made me a soy latte?" Gerard repeats.

Frank's cheeks pink up a little, but he continues looking at Gerard steadily. "I know you're usually all about the 2%, but I figured you might want to try something new?"

Gerard knows that he's not usually the most observant person in the world, but he's pretty sure he knows what being offered a soy latte means. "I would love a soy latte, thanks," he says, holding his hand out to Frank.

Frank's face breaks into a massive smile as he hands it over. "You should try sweetening it with raw sugar instead of the fake crap, too," he says. "I mean. If you'd like."

Gerard puts the latte ( _soy_ latte, his brain reminds him) down on the table and looks back up at Frank. "Actually, you wouldn't happen to be going on break any time soon, would you?"

Frank is nodding before Gerard even gets halfway through the question. "Ray, I'm taking fifteen!" he yells out, tilting his head to the side a little but never looking away from Gerard.

"Yeah, I'll come looking for you in twenty-five," Ray calls back.

Gerard gets all of his pages into his bag and stands up, throwing it over his shoulder. "Um. Lead the way," he says to Frank, suddenly nervous again. He follows Frank past the counter and through the back of the shop, hoping that he hasn't seriously misunderstood the implications of peanut butter cookies and a soy latte.

Frank opens up a little break room with a key hanging off a chain clipped to his belt. He closes the door behind them, and Gerard has time to notice a couch along the far wall and a bunch of inspirational posters with rather different slogans scrawled along the bottoms of them in marker before Frank cups his face with his hands and kisses him.

Gerard immediately kisses him back, his brain frantically yelling at him that _Frank_ is _kissing_ him and doesn't he maybe want to freak out a bit? But luckily his body seems to be handling things fine. Gerard pulls Frank in closer, wrapping his arms around his waist as they make out. Frank's hands move against his face and then up into his hair, pulling a little as he attacks Gerard's mouth with his lips and teeth and tongue. Gerard fights back, holding him in with one arm as the other moves up Frank's back and grips the nape of his neck firmly.

Gerard spins them around a little, moving Frank backwards towards the couch until they flop onto it together. He immediately positions himself above Frank, fitting his thigh in between Frank's legs and grinding down onto him.

"Oh, fuck, Gerard," Frank gets out, pulling Gerard in by his ass and biting down on Gerard's shoulder. Gerard braces himself up a bit and nudges at Frank's face with his head until he can kiss Frank again. They sprawl out on the couch, Gerard's dick getting harder and harder in his jeans as he thrusts against Frank's hip while he sucks on Frank's tongue.

He pulls back and sits up a bit when it gets to be too much, panting and reaching down to adjust himself. Frank is still lying against the arm of the couch, his arms flung out and his mouth dropped open as he breathes heavily, his erection visible through the thin black pants he's wearing. Gerard moves without even thinking and reaches for Frank's flies, getting them open and his hand in.

Frank groans and pushes up into Gerard's hands, arching his back against the couch as Gerard strokes his cock. Frank manages to get his hands under him and sits up a little, leaning his head on Gerard's shoulder and fumbling with the buttons on Gerard's jeans. Gerard keeps feeling Frank through his boxers and then finally gets Frank's dick out, giving him one hard stroke to start.

Frank gasps against Gerard's shoulder and works even harder at Gerard's buttons, finally getting them undone and hitching Gerard's jeans and underwear down a little so that he can get at Gerard's dick. Gerard turns towards Frank a bit more, opening up his hips and craning his head down to kiss Frank again.

They pant into each others' mouths as they jerk each other off. Gerard feels Frank add a little twist around the crown of his dick on an upstroke and mimics it on Frank's cock, smiling when Frank twitches in response. They continue stroking each other, doing a sort of call and response as Gerard figures out what Frank likes best based on what he's doing to Gerard.

 _Competitive jerking off,_ Gerard thinks as it develops into a feedback loop, each of them hitching up into the other's hands until finally Frank bites down on Gerard's lip and comes. Gerard quickly follows after him, continuing to stroke Frank through as best he can when his brain whites out from his orgasm. They slump back against the couch together, Frank pulling his boxers up over his dick before nestling into Gerard's side. Gerard can't seem to make his arms move and lets his legs sprawl open further, his dick still out over his briefs.

He lets his head drop gently on top of Frank's. "We could have been doing this back here for, like, weeks."

Frank grumbles and pinches Gerard's thigh. "I wasn't the one who ignored dozens of bags of cookies."

"It was not dozens of bags," Gerard says sleepily.

"It's entirely possible it was _a_ dozen, at least, same difference," Frank says.

They're interrupted by a knock on the door. "Frank. It's Ray."

Frank answers into Gerard's collarbone. "There's no fucking way that was fifteen minutes, let alone twenty-five, man."

Ray opens the door, looks in and a second later slaps his hand over his eyes. "Yeah, but I can't actually just let you have sex in the break room, Frank."

"Too late!" Frank says cheerfully.

"Yeah, I caught that on my own, thanks. I _really_ didn't need to see Gerard's dick, I have to tell you," Ray says, eyes still covered.

"What's wrong with it?" Gerard asks, a little hurt.

"Nothing, Gerard. It's just not for me to see, man," Ray says.

Gerard hums in response, sitting up enough to tuck himself back in and get his pants zipped up. "How's school going, Ray? You still playing guitar?" Gerard asks. "Oh, and I'm good now."

Ray takes his hand down from over his eyes. "Yeah, same old, same old. How's your brother doing?"

"He's good! Still interning at that record label, you know," Gerard says, leaning up against Frank's arm. His entire body is relaxed in a way it hasn't been in weeks; he's pretty sure he could drop off on this couch in about two minutes.

"It's so weird you guys know each other," Frank says, shifting a bit to let Gerard's head rest on his shoulder.

Gerard makes a muffled sound against Frank's shoulder as Ray answers. "What, we went to high school together — it's not _that_ weird. And I see his brother at a lot of the shows I play at."

"My brother knows everyone," Gerard says into Frank's neck.

"He doesn't know me," Frank replies.

Gerard snuffles a little. "He will."

Ray sighs and looks upwards. "As sweet as all of this is, Frank, I need you to get back out front. _After_ you wash your hands, Jesus Christ," Ray adds as an afterthought.

Frank huffs out a little laugh. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure there are tons of posters back here telling me why that's required," he says.

"Also it'd just be fucking gross, dude. Seriously. Five minutes," Ray says, moving back to the door.

"Nice to see you, Ray!" Gerard calls out.

Ray turns back around. "You too, Gerard. I'll see you tomorrow?" he asks.

Gerard smiles. "Where else am I'm gonna get my coffee?"

Ray smiles as he turns and walks out the door, letting it close behind him. Frank nudges Gerard up a bit and gets up from the couch. He walks over to the sink next to the refrigerator, throwing on the faucet and squirting the gunky green soap into his hands. Gerard lets out a sigh and pulls himself out from the soft cushions, wiping his hands on his jeans before heading over to stand behind Frank at the sink.

"So do you want to come back to my place sometime and take a look at my etchings?" Gerard says, pulling Frank into his chest by his waist, head hooked over Frank's shoulder.

"If that's _not_ a euphemism for sex, I'm gonna be really disappointed," Frank replies, and Gerard smiles and shuts him up with a kiss.


End file.
